


Manners, Master Baggins

by ElfyDwarf



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drunkenness, Frottage, M/M, Sexual Tension, ear assaultage, misuse of kitchen counters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:27:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfyDwarf/pseuds/ElfyDwarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's two kinds of drunk - the angry kind, and the touchy feely kind.</p><p>Bilbo is the touchy feely kind who likes to get handsy with himself in his kitchen. That is, until he is reminded of his manners.</p><p>prompt - Bilbo has sensitive ears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manners, Master Baggins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenhobbit22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenhobbit22/gifts).



> this was a prompt off a lovely reader. I was asked for mature, and Bilbo has sensitive ears. The idea hit me, so i did what i do best! Here is the result. It's shorter than i usually go for, I hope you enjoy my dears :)

 

Drunkenness had never really sat well with Bilbo, even with his Took heritage, and yet he still wondered at how he could be chatting happily about the advantages to growing your own vegetation in your garden with Bombur one moment and then next, having his feet taken out from underneath him by a particularly sneaky punch of ale that he'd forgotten he'd inhaled moments after Bombur had wandered off with another pie and wheel of the strongest cheddar this side of Frogmoreton. No, drunkenness made him feel completely uncomfortable, out of control and giddy to the point of relying on door frames and sturdy furniture. It wouldn't do to be in this kind of state with guests; those guests were also the reason he was one pint of ale from deep, dizzy sleep on his hallway floor, something they found highly amusing as he swayed and giggled around them.

 

“Oh, Mr Boggins looks mighty ill brother!” Kili, he was sure it was Kili, laughed from up ahead even as he hung off of Fili as his own ale tried to take him out at the knees. Fili shook his head and manoeuvred them out of sight, presumably to find a room to sleep in, a task that was not all too easy whilst under the influence of alcohol in Bilbo's labyrinth smial. Bilbo wobbled back into his kitchen and held himself up by the sink, breathing as best he could while his head swam with alarming speed. He felt warm and soft all of a sudden and began to hug himself, smiling brightly, looking for all intents and purposes, like a lunatic. He stayed there for a long time, though it felt like mere seconds, hugging and rubbing his body this way and that, up into his hair until he brushed his ears.

 

“Oh, hello, I forgot about you,” he murmured as he began a dance on the shell of each ear with numb fingers, tapping and rolling and stroking them until he was sighing happily against the sideboard of his kitchen, “So sensitive. So pointy,” he giggled, pinched and then groaned, “Oh, so _good_ though, why do I always forget about you?”

 

“Do you forget most things Master Baggins?” Bilbo shook out of his heated hypnosis immediately, flushing hotly under the strong gaze of his esteemed guest, “such as your guests? Decorum? _Manners_?” Thorin's deep timbre ran through every cell in Bilbo's small body and he shivered. He flexed his fists at his sides and stared at the dwarf leaning against the wall, a small curve to his pink lips and a raise in his brow.

 

“It would do you well not to tease your host, regardless of what he should or should not be doing in his own home,” Bilbo slurred, waving him off until his swimming brain stopped and cleared for a second, “Manners?”

 

“Yes, manners, Master Baggins,” Thorin drawled, his own consumption of tankards that evening not sitting with him all too well either; he was steadily feeling too at home and mighty cheeky all of a sudden, “To indulge yourself whilst you have guests is rather rude, is it not?” Bilbo bristled as Thorin pushed away from the wall and floated across the distance in a flash, very close and very big and extremely mesmerizing as he lifted his hands carefully, “To indulge without invitation, you understand, is not befitting a good host, is it, Master Baggins?” he pointed out, his stature allowing him to crowd Bilbo against the sideboard as he waited, fingers so close to Bilbo's ears that he could feel them twitching, feel the heat of them, the patience in Thorin while he waited for Bilbo to react in some way. He watched the hobbit flush pink across his nose and cheeks, nibble his bottom lip in thought before his eyes fluttered closed; holding Thorin's piercing blue gaze was difficult when he was a mere inch from him, his curiosity written across his face while he looked down with expectancy. He was fuzzy still, warm, his blood singing with the waves of joy that he'd brought upon himself.

 

“Your company-”

 

“Asleep.”

 

“My company-”

 

“Does not change anything.”

 

“But you-”

 

“I want to touch you. Do you want me to touch you, Master Baggins? Do you wish for me to indulge in your pleasure?” Thorin purred, swaying slightly while Bilbo swallowed, “Or do you wish me to leave you alone? I can do that, I have yet to touch you. I will leave you and speak nothing of this to another soul, if that is your wish?” he spoke softly, hands lowering just a little, as he meant all that he said. He would not push where he was not permitted to. Bilbo opened his eyes slowly and lifted his gaze until he met a deep blue set of eyes watching him steadily, calculating him even while they fought to stay focussed.

 

“Who am I to deny my guest, when he does ask so politely?” Bilbo teased, running his tongue along his top lip with a coy smirk, “Pleasure is a treasure to be shared, is it not, _Thorin_?” Bilbo leered, rolling the dwarf's name in his mouth like a sweet, breathing out deeply through his nose as large, hot fingers tickled along the ridges of his ears to the sound of a rumble. Bilbo's eyes rolled in his head as Thorin hummed and sighed heavily, his touches light, his body still despite the onset of heavy breathing.

 

“These are very strange ears,” Thorin whispered, completely struck by the shape and feel of them under his fingertips, “I have not been close enough to a hobbit to really see them, let alone having been granted the honour being able to feel them like this,” he pinched them lightly, jumping out of his fascination when Bilbo groaned, “I am sorry, I have hurt you,” he stated, hands flying down to his sides as he stepped back. Unbeknownst to either of them, Thorin had indeed crowded Bilbo enough to have him pinned to the sideboard at the waist, hands trapped behind his lower back, eyes shut tightly and mouth gradually falling open as the sensations washed through his body, electric shocks flashing down his back and thighs while Thorin explored obliviously, his heavy belt preventing him from knowing his closeness. Now he stepped back as if burnt and Bilbo felt like he was falling.

 

“Oh, where are you going?” Bilbo whined, frustrated that his pleasures had been kicked to the floor, ale messing with his sensibility, “Please, carry on,” he closed his eyes and waited, eager to be touched again. He had just been on the cusp of arousal, the itch in his groin having grown warmer.

 

“But I hurt you!” Thorin shook his head, folding his arms across his chest. Bilbo opened his eyes and levelled Thorin with his best look of irritation.

 

“No harm was done, I assure you, now, please continue?” Bilbo smiled, reaching out to loosen those strong arms. They fell open though Thorin seemed hesitant, unable to move closer as he swept his gaze over Bilbo from toes to curls, his eyes lingering on Bilbo's, taking in the large pupils, “Thorin, please?”

 

“I find that I desire your company far too much for my resolve to stay solid when you ask so politely, Bilbo,” the dwarf purred, fingers tugging and stroking Bilbo's ears with hunger as Thorin closed in on the hobbit again, his body as close as possible, “Allow me to indulge my pleasure, I beg of you,” he hissed, rolling his hips without thought, forehead against Bilbo's own.

 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Bilbo breathed deeply, lost in sensations and sensitivity. Thorin answered with a suffocated groan, deep and powerful in his throat, “Ask nicely, Thorin, then you may indulge yourself as you wish.”

 

“By the beard of my ancestors, where did you come from Master Baggins?” Thorin moaned, pinching Bilbo's pointy tips with a bite enough that Bilbo threw his head back and gripped Thorin's bare forearms. He had lost his surcoat and armour some hours before, keeping his belt as some kind of protection even while he traipsed the smial in his breeches and shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, “ _Please_ , Bilbo, let me?” Bilbo huffed and bit his lip hard, Thorin leaning over him until he could look into blown green, “ _Please_?” he asked so openly that Bilbo was nodding before the entire word had left the exiled kings mouth. All too quickly, Bilbo felt himself lifted and planted on the side with a hot mouth nipping at his throat while large hands explored everywhere, a hot and strong waist crushed against him, held fast by his own locked legs. Then the teeth and searing lips were assaulting his ears and Bilbo couldn't find it in himself to stop the noises coming out of him, nor could he stop his fingers delving deeply into thick, dark hair to cradle Thorin's head just where he wanted it to stay. Drinking ale was never a strong forte of Bilbo's, but he could never regret doing it, not when it hailed moments such as these, lost inhibitions and spontaneous sexual explosions in the kitchen. No, drunkenness never did agree with him, but then Bilbo found he rather liked the odd disagreement.

 


End file.
